


Force Feels

by Danudane



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din just trying to be a good dad, Force Sensitive Din, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24106522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danudane/pseuds/Danudane
Summary: Force sensitive Din helps his kid through a nightmare.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluebells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/gifts).



> (Just a little something I’ve been meaning to write. I really like playing with the idea that Din is at least a little force sensitive, even if he doesn’t quite know or understand what that means. But he bonded with the kid so quickly that it made me think there was more to it than that.   
> Also, shoutout to bluebells for telling me to post this. <3 )

Din wakes with a start, sitting up from his slouched position in the cockpit chair.   
It’s simply habit that he swings his head in either direction, checking that everything seems to be in order.   
There weren’t any alarms going off, and nothing seemed immediately out of place. 

The kid, who he’d put down for a nap a couple of hours ago, had not made his way up beside him. It was a feat Din had seen before, and still did not quite understand. 

But it was quiet, and Din wasn’t entirely sure what had woken him up with such urgency.   
“Kid?” Din whispers, just in case the child was playing hide and seek by some chance. 

There is a strange quiet about the ship, and it sets a subtle but uneasy feeling in the pit of Din’s stomach. 

He makes his way down into the hold of the Crest, careful not to make noise aside from the light clunk of his boots. 

Peeking around the corner, he finds the kid still wrapped in the blanket he left him in, and tucked into the bassinet. 

Din sighs in quiet relief, and all seems fine until he notices the kid’s ears pin down.   
There is a noticeable wobble of the kid’s mouth, as if he is about to whimper and cry. A little sound follows, more akin to a sad whimper than a sob.   
The child’s eyes screw shut even tighter than they already are, and Din gives pause. 

It was likely a bit of a bad dream. He begins to turn, and leave the kid to work through it, when he hears a tiny cry. 

The sound roots Din to his spot, until a similar sound prompts him to approach the kid.   
“Hey.” He starts softly, placing a gentle hand on the child and patting the outer layers of the blanket. 

Din doesn’t know if it’s his own lack of experience in the matter that’s getting the better of him, but that uneasy feeling in him begins to grow. 

The kid doesn’t wake, and continues to whimper. “Hey, kid.” 

The longer Din stays near, the more he imagines he can feel what the kid is feeling. He’s not sure how, but he finds himself glancing around the room again, as if he expects some source of danger to come lunging towards him. 

A cold sweat starts to break across his brow, under his helmet, and he glances towards the little one again.

Din’s sure this is all coming from the kid...somehow. Not that the little one means any harm, but these powers of his...  
Din had a feeling there was a lot more the child could do than what he’d already seen or known. 

It was a few small tears welling at the corners of the kid’s eyes that has Din close the distance.   
Within a moment he’s released the catches on his beskar and removed his chest piece and pauldrons.   
There was no need for armor at this point, and it would only serve to get in the way. 

The child has begun to sob quietly, and Din’s hands tremble inexplicably as he scoops the little one up and cradles his small body against him. 

As soon as the kid presses close, Din lets out a shuddering breath, a cold fear crawling up his spine. 

The kid won’t wake, and Din doesn’t know why. He hadn’t used his powers in a while. 

“Hey...come on.” Din tries again, rubbing his hand up and down the little one’s back in a soothing manner. 

The baby curls closer and clings to Din’s clothing, but still seems trapped in the bad dream. 

Din closes his eyes under his helmet, and lets out another shaky sigh.   
‘Come on, kiddo. It’s just a bad dream. You can wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright.’   
This time Din doesn’t say it as much as he wills it. He knows it with every fibre of his being, and does his best to project it outward. 

He doesn’t know why this comes to mind, but it seems the right thing to do. Some sort of intuition.

Another whimper. 

‘Ad’ika. I’m here.’ He hugs the little one closer, attempting to shield him from whatever had him in a fit. 

The child’s cries tail off, slowly but surely, and eventually his big dark eyes blink open. 

“...Hey. There you are.” Din looks down at him, giving a relieved little smile from behind his helmet. 

The kid reaches up with a tiny hand and presses it to the side of Din’s helmet, letting out a soft little coo, before settling back down into Din’s arms. 

A string of babbled words leaves the kid, nothing distinguishable except for the tone. For the feeling that comes with them. 

“I know, kid. I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Din’s turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I’m posting this without a pre-read through because it’s late. I will check for mistakes or inconsistencies later. ^_^; )

It’s only been a couple nights since the nightmare incident with the kid.   
The little one has been just as quiet as normal, and does not seem to be suffering any negatives from the bad dream. 

They’ve been on the run for a a few days now, and despite this Din’s abnormal sleeping schedule is—surprisingly—turning into something that could pass as sustainable. 

Normally he allows himself just a couple of hours here and there. With a tiny kid in tow, sleep becomes a bit more routine.   
Din doesn’t know if he should be frustrated, or amused, that the kid prefers to cuddle up as close as possible.   
It does not matter if Din is sequestered to his bunk in the hold, or falling asleep in the cockpit chair, the child wants to be near him. 

A guilt settles within him again, knowing this really isn’t the life for a kid. Flying from planet to planet, living life on the run while they continue their search...

But it’s all Din can offer, at the moment. He’d tried leaving the child on Sorgan— or had plans to— until a sniper had nearly ended things entirely. 

For better or worse, the child was stuck with him, and he with the child. 

And after tonight, it seemed he would owe the child yet again. Din just didn’t know it yet. 

“Come on, kid.” He cocks his head to the side, as the child slides the round metal knob back and forth against the control panel. 

“Beh?” A curious noise escapes the kid, who’s just barely resisting the urge to grab the controls again. 

“If you come to bed now, you can help me fly tomorrow.” Din smirks behind his helmet. 

Seeming to understand, the little one raises his arms towards Din. ‘Up!’ The meaning is clear, even without words. 

Din obliges and reaches down to scoop the kid up, earning a happy yet tired giggle in the process. 

“Bed time.” Din responds gently and pats the kid’s back. 

A tiny whimper comes next, as if in protest. ‘Not tired.’ The kid’s ears droop and he looks at Din with pleading eyes. 

“Sorry kid, not falling for that one.” 

The kid relents, eventually. He’s tired even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

Din and the kid retreat into the tiny bedroom, and he sits down on the bed.   
He places the little one down into the bassinet, still wedged there beside the bed and the wall.   
“Time to sleep.” He drapes a small blanket over the kid and tucks it around him. 

One final small noise escapes the kid, who wriggles one arm free and reaches towards Din. 

Din pauses for a moment, attempting to determine what the little one wants before he tries something. 

He takes the kid’s tiny hand in his, running his gloved thumb over the little one’s fingers in a soothing manner. 

“Go to sleep.” His voice is even gentler now, as he watches his ad’ika yawn and curl in on himself. “Goodnight, kid.” 

Tucking one arm under his helmeted head and neck, Din has already laid down and turned on his side. He faces the kid, empty hand outstretched and resting on the side of the bassinet. 

He’s asleep within minutes, still in his beskar and only his cape for a cover. 

It’s the Crest’s alarm blaring that rips Din from his slumber. 

He is up and reaching for the kid within seconds, but his hands come up empty.   
Before he can wonder if the little one had made his way up to the cockpit to mess with the controls again, the whole ship rocks violently to the side. 

The Crest groans and shudders, sparks flying from the machinery along the inside of the hold. 

They were under attack. 

Kriff. 

“Kid!” Din calls out, nearly flying up the ladder into the cockpit. He doesn’t find his charge, instead a glimpse of their attacker. 

An imperial ship rounds them again, sending another volley of shots against the Crest’s broadside. 

Din doesn’t need to look at the control panel to know they’ve taken considerable damage— it’s blinking red and beeping rapidly as if in distress. He can’t set the ship into hyperdrive, not without knowing where his kid is. It might not hold up at this point anyways. 

“Hey! Where are you?” Din calls into the rest of the ship, and with no immediate answer he makes the next logical decision. 

He has to land the ship. 

There’s a moon within their vicinity. It would be their best bet. 

Din takes the controls and the Crest surges forward.   
“Hold on, kid!” He calls to lower deck. “This is going to get rough.” He mutters to himself, as he sees the Imperial ship close in on the control panel. 

The alarms double down, as if the ship is self aware that it doesn’t have much left. 

A distress signal goes out to Cara, with no time for an explanation other than their coordinates. If this goes bad, at least she’ll know what happened if their trail goes cold otherwise. 

Din manages to make the landing.   
It destroys the Crest’s landing gear as she lurches forward, nose down into the dirt and carving a large trench in the ground that trails out behind her. 

She’s still sparking and smoking now, as Din rushes back down into the hold for his kid. 

He grabs a few extra weapons. This will end in a firefight and he knows it. Any advantage he can get over the approaching Imps, he’ll take. 

When Din turns to look for the little one, he finds the hull of the Crest being breached. 

The weapon cuts through metal far too easily. 

The realization dawns on Din that these aren’t just a random group of stormtroopers. 

As a panel of the Crest falls to the floor with a loud clatter, and edges of molten metal, Din knows who he is facing. 

“Gideon.” Din’s throat tightens, and his mouth goes dry. He knew the man wasn’t dead, but hadn’t expected to see him so soon. How did he even find them? 

It’s still all too fresh in his mind, how the last fight between them ended.

He’s not alone this time, either. There’s a battalion of Storm Troopers with him. 

Din make not make it out of this, but he’d at least take everyone else with him. 

Turning, he finally sees his kid on the floor, unconscious. Kriff. 

“Kid!” Din calls out again, his voice straining in his throat. 

“Hand him over, Din.” Gideon speaks up, smirking as he takes a step towards the kid. 

Din is about to dive for the little one, when the first blaster shot hits him square in the chest piece.   
He chokes out a gasp as the force of the blast dissipates across his chest, but he doesn’t give an inch. 

“Impressive, but you cannot keep this up.” Gideon gives the slightest head tilt towards his troopers and they fire again. 

Din returns fire and takes out two troopers, and wounds a third before two more blaster shots hit him. 

He reels this time, biting back a cry as the shots force him back. They do not penetrate his armor, but he still feels the full force of them. 

His kid is still on the ground, unmoving. There is no blood, but that hardly lessens his worry. 

Gideon is stepping forward, closing the distance between them, and Din risks it. He dives for his ad’ika, blood rushing in his ears. His arms gather around the little one, and his body becomes a shield. 

Din takes several more blaster rounds before the troops are ordered to stop. 

Why is Gideon risking the kid’s life like this? Didn’t he want him alive? 

That prospect doesn’t make Din’s blood run any less cold. But it’s hard to move, now, and he takes a moment to catch a few rasping breaths as he forces himself upright again. 

He’s backed into a corner, now, both figuratively and literally. 

Cara is too far away to help. He has no covert or tribe left to lend assistance. 

It’s just him and the kid. A clan of two. Din tries to shake the thought that it didn’t last very long. 

He raises his blaster, but Gideon is no longer in front of him. 

Where—

Din sees the man too late, coming in from his right side. Gideon was exploiting a blind spot, and Din barely had time to counter. 

His bracer comes up as the dark saber comes down, biting ever so slightly into the beskar. 

It holds, but Din can feel the heat behind it already, and pivots away from the blow. 

He’s at a disadvantage with the kid in his arms, but there is no thought in his mind to putting him down now. 

“Come on, kid...” Din whispers to the little one, growing desperate to determine the reason for his ad’ika’ s current state. 

“This would be much easier if you would only hand the child over.” Gideon stands at the ready, dark saber still humming threateningly. 

“You know that isn’t going to happen.” Din retorts, confident with his words despite the current situation. 

“Very well. Know this falls on your shoulders, then.” Gideon hardly seems pressed as he orders the troopers to fire again. 

Din sees the blasters raise again and spins just in time to bear the brunt of the attack.   
Except it doesn’t come. 

Instead he feels the white hot burn of the dark saber slip through him. In through his back, and he’s frozen with panic and pain. His vision is already going dark. 

The kid suddenly screams. It’s ear piercing, and shocks Din back to reality. 

He bolts upright, gasping for breath through his helmet’s respiration system. A cold sweat drips from his brow and into his eyes.

He’s in bed. In his sleeping quarters. The Crest is intact. 

The kid. His kid. 

The little one is clinging to his side, ears pinned down and whimpering. There are tears welling in those big eyes. 

Din still hasn’t caught his breath, but he pulls the little one into an embrace. It’s all he can think to do. 

“It’s...” He tries to find the words through his racing thoughts. “It was just a nightmare. Bad dream. I’m alright.” Din seems to be attempting to convince himself just as much as the kid. 

He glances down, and then around him. The lever knob he’d given to the kid is wedged between the padding and metal struts of his bed. Laying on that must have caused the pain in his back. He resisted the urged to reach back and rub the sore spot. It would ease soon enough. 

The little one whimpers again, a worried coo as he reaches up and pats the bottom of Din’s helmet. 

“Yeah...I wasn’t expecting that either.” He starts, the burn in his chest finally starting to fade.   
“I’m alright.” Din repeats, and continues to hold the child close. 

“We’re ok.” He feels guilty, and wonders how much of his distress the kid picked up on. 

He can only hope his dream is just that—a nightmare— and not a premonition of something to come. 

For now, he shoves it to the back of his mind, and simply lays back down with the kid. 

Usually it’s him protecting the kid. This time, the little one was looking after him.


End file.
